My Love Is in a Light Attire

My love is in a light attire Among the apple-trees,

Where the gay winds do most desire To run in companies.

There, where the gay winds stay to woo The young leaves as they pass,

My love goes slowly, bending to Her shadow on the grass;

And where the sky's a pale blue cup Over the laughing land,

My love goes lightly, holding up Her dress with dainty hand.